The last pilgrimage ceremony performed at Meccah is the Tawaf el Widaaf, or circumambulation of farewell, a solemn occasion. The devotee walks round the House of Allah, he drinks the water of
the Zemzem well, he kisses the threshold of the door, and he stands for some time with his face and bosom pressed against the multazem wall, clinging to the curtain, reciting religious formulas, blessing the Prophet, weeping if possible, but at least groaning. He then leaves the temple, backing out of it with many salutations till he reaches the Gate of Farewell, when, with a parting glance at the Kaabah, he turns his face towards home.
I will not dwell upon my return journey—how, accompanied by the boy Mohammed, I reached Jeddah on the Red Sea, how my countrymen refused for a time to believe me, and how I sadly parted with my Moslem friends. My wanderings ended for a time, and, worn out with fatigue and with the fatal fiery heat, I steamed out of Jeddah on September 26th in the little Dwarka, and on October 3rd, 1853, after six months’ absence from England, I found myself safely anchored in Suez Harbour.
[5] Both latitude and longitude are disputed points, as the following table shows. The Arabs, it must be remembered, placed the first meridian at the Fortunate Islands:
| The Atwal | makes the latitude | 21° | 40′ | , longitude | 67° | 13′ |
| Kanun | ” | 21° | 20′ | ” | 67° | 0′ |
| Ibu Said | ” | 21° | 31′ | ” | 67° | 31′ |
| Rasm | ” | 21° | 0′ | ” | 67° | 0′ |
| Khúshyar | ” | 21° | 40′ | ” | 67° | 10′ |
| Masr el Din | ” | 21° | 40′ | ” | 77° | 10′ |
| D’Anville | ” | 22° | 0′ | ” | 77° | 10′ |
| Niebuhr | ” | 21° | 30′ | ” | 77° | 10′ |
Humbodlt, therefore, is hardly right to say: “L’erreur est que le Mecque paraissait déjà aux Arabes de 19° trop a l’est” (“Correspondence,” p. 459).
A RIDE TO HARAR
1854-1855
A RIDE TO HARAR
THE pilgrimage to Meccah being a thing of the past, and the spirit of unrest still strong within me, I next turned my thoughts to the hot depths of the Dark Continent. Returning to Bombay early in 1854, I volunteered to explore the Land of the Somali, the eastern horn of Africa, extending from Cape Guardafui (N. Lat. 12°) to near the Equator. For many years naval officers had coasted along it; many of our ships had been lost there, and we had carefully shot their wreckers and plunderers. But no modern traveller had ventured into the wild depths, and we were driven for information to the pages of Father Lobo, of Salt, and de Rienzi.